


So, You Like Cats?

by EmiStone



Series: Marvel Soulmate Shorts [1]
Category: Black Panther (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6881236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmiStone/pseuds/EmiStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, you like cats?" T'Challa was not prepared to hear those words from the mouth of an adversary, even one so beautiful.</p><p>Just a small T'Challa/Sam Wilson Soulmate Short</p>
            </blockquote>





	So, You Like Cats?

**Author's Note:**

> So, Hope you like it. Obviously, I am using the comics some with Shuri, but I just love her. Also, I was serious about the spoilers.  
> Message me on tumblr ("igorinatheigor") for requests!

Sam honestly could not believe that his choices had led to him quitting his job, becoming a superhero, and now getting arrested. Not that he would have traded his past life for this one, just that he was little irate that Steve’s old war buddy had blown up a building and now caused him to be sitting in the backseat of a car with Steve and a regal looking man he’d never met before, but had just been masquerading as a giant cat and had grabbed onto him and used him as a ride. 

He looked down at his leg, pulling up the pant leg to see that his Words were still intact, as cat dude’s claws had dug a bit into the skin. And, yes, there they were, nice and bold on his skin just a few lucky inches from the claw marks he could see now were going to scar. Just his luck, really. No enhanced healing for Sam Wilson, and really this was all cat dudes fault, well, him and Barnes. Speaking of… 

“So you like cats?” He asked in a deadpan voice, watching in interest as the man Rhodes had referred to as royalty looked somewhat taken-aback. Probably not used to anyone standing up to him.

“Sam.” Steve said in his I’m-Captain-America-And-Tired-Of-This-Nonsense voice. Surprisingly, this did not have the desired effect.  
“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?” Sam asked, before sitting back. Cat dude started speaking to Steve, clearly deciding to ignore what Sam felt was a perfectly valid question. Once they got to the base, Sam didn’t really think about him again, though he did learn that his name was T’Challa and he was some kind of king, because that was the kind of ballgame he’d gotten himself into in that stupid park. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

T’Challa had been raised in a society that very much believed in the power of soulmates, of the Words that engraved themselves upon almost every person’s skin. Your Mate was to be paramount to all, once you found them, they were Bast’s gift to you. His own words caused a bit of scandal when he was two years old and his mate was born. The words were in English, as opposed to his native language that was much more common in Wakanda. His words were also not of the most… respectful variety. This led to the royal family hiding the content of his Words, as Wakanda was an isolationist nation and his words certainly didn’t sound like they came from Wakanda. His younger sister, Shuri, was born with her Words, also in English, and T’Chaka started to open trade slightly with the outside world. It would be unheard of for a royal child to not meet their Mate, and he would not be the reason that his children went without happiness. So, when T’Challa was to accompany his father on a diplomatic mission to Vienna, he expected to hear his words any minute.

That changed with the death of his father. His Mate came last in his mind, and Bast punished him for his blind revenge seeking. When he heard his Words, he did not acknowledge his Mate immediately, as custom dictated. Instead, he threatened his friend, the famous Captain America, as to the safety of the equally famous James Barnes. Then, he compounded this offense by fighting against his Mate and his friends. Then, he was forced by the very document his father signed to send his Mate to the worst of all prisons in the world, the Raft.  
Now that the fighting was over, at least until they found Barnes and the Captain again, T’Challa didn’t know what to do. He sat staring intently at his Mate, though there were many screens around him, each showing another of his Mate’s friends locked up due at least in part to his intervention. His Mate looked angry, locked in his cell. T’Challa was angry, they had outfitted each of the prisoners with blue garb that he’s been assured could “shish kabob” any of them with electricity if they exited their cells, or even did something to displease their captors under their 24/7 supervision. This was not how prisoners were treated in Wakanda, not even killers were treated such, much less friends fighting on principle. That he didn’t agree with the principle was irrelevant. Mates were expected to disagree, to bring out the better in their partner. T’Challa doubted that would be a problem with this one. He very much looked and sounded like he could hold his own. All of a sudden, T’Challa wondered where his Words were. What position they would need to be in for the joining of souls…

“Brother?” Came a voice from behind him. He turned slightly and nodded, acknowledging Shuri before turning back to the screen. “What is so interesting for you on that screen?” Shuri asked, knowing him too well to think this was anything resembling normal behavior. He turned to face her fully.

“What if I used a hypothetical?” He asked, watching Shuri’s face as her eyebrow raised and she sat down across from him, gesturing for him to continue.

“What if there was a person who found their Mate, but did not, for perfectly valid reasons, reply. What should they do?” Shuri jolted upwards, leaping out of her seat.

“You mean to say you found your mate and did not say anything to them? T’Challa! It is their right as well as yours to learn of this!” She said angrily.

“I said a hypothetical!” T’Challa replied quickly, but sank back in his seat immediately under Shuri’s rather quelling look.

“Who is it? One of the staffers? One of the members of your hero team?” Shuri asked excitedly. “I must meet them immediately.”  
T’Challa simply smiled blandly and pointed to the pacing figure on the screen. Shuri immediately sunk into her chair in shock.

“You fought against your mate?”

“Not directly, no. Well, I did fight him before I knew who he was…”

“You fought against your mate.”

“He is a warrior of great strength and intellect, Shuri. It was not as if we would not have sparred with one another. And the first fight was before he said my words.” T’Challa defended himself. Shuri looked upon him with disgust in her features.

“You fought against your Mate, T’Challa! He sits imprisoned in front of you!” Shuri gestured to the screen, where his Mate was pacing back and forth in his small cell, occasionally glancing to Miss Maximoff was imprisoned with a straight jacket and collar. This only seemed to further enrage him, causing him to speed up his pacing even more.

“I suppose I should talk to him.” T’Challa said, looking at the figure on the screen once more before standing. Shuri blocked his path.

“No.”

“What? You said-"

“Forget what I said,” Shuri cut him off, “You have to make some kind of change before you talk to him. There is no way he accepts you now. You just fought him and had him and all of his friends thrown in prison.” T’Challa looked back to the screen to see the audio gone and Stark standing in front of his Mate’s cell.

“I think I may know a way to do just that.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So… Captain, it looks like you may need a place to stay.”

Steve looked up from where he was carrying Bucky’s weight to see the Wakandan King leaning against their quinnjet, with a bound Zemo in front of him. The king had his helmet off, so Steve could see his contrite expression and nod downwards towards Zemo.

“It sure is starting to, yeah.” He replied with an easy smile, shifting Bucky’s weight a little to take more of the load.

“And help breaking your friends out of prison.” The king continued, giving a small smile in return.

“I can’t ask you to do that, Your Highness. That would be betraying the UN. I can get them out on my own. A place to stay for now is enough.” Steve replied, frowning slightly, wincing as he tugged his many injuries.

“I’m afraid my help at all is contingent on it. And I am offering more than temporary housing. I am offering permanent assistance and refuge, for you and every single one of your friends and their families.” T’Challa immediately replied, looking almost anxious.

“Why?” Steve asked, somewhat suspicious. T’Challa took a deep breath in and let it out as a long sigh.

“Because it is the right thing to do.” 

“Well, OK then.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Once the Avengers, or at least the Avengers minus Iron Man, Vision, and Iron Patriot, were sprung from prison, Sam was surprised to know that the Wakandan King was the one taking them in. He’d apparently seen the error of his ways in attacking Barnes and was offering asylum instead. Which was fine with Sam, really, he was happy to get some time away in an African paradise while knowing exactly where the stupid Super Solider was in the world. It’s just… He’d always fought for his country. He was as much a patriot as Rhodes, though obviously the man had him beat with names in that category. He’d served his country in any way he could, first in the Air Force, then at the VA, then with the Avengers. And Wakanda was nice and all, but he missed the good US of A sometimes. He wondered who missed him, if anyone even did. Foster homes weren’t the best places to grow up, and he’s never gotten overly attached to any of them. Thinking about it, staring out into the Wakandan jungle, he couldn’t really think of a single person who would question him being an international criminal, even.

“You look like you are having very deep thoughts.” A female voice sounded from behind him. He turned to see a woman who looked extremely familiar.

“You must be Princess Shuri.” Sam said, standing and bowing. “Thank you very much for your hospitality here.”

“Oh, please sit.” Shuri said, gesturing back to his seat and sitting next to him, looking out into the jungle intensely. “And trust me, it is not a result of my hospitality that you are sitting here.”

“Well, still.” Sam replied, sitting and relaxing, looking out into the jungle in silence until Shuri calmly spoke again.

“You have not said, what troubles you, Mr. Wilson?” Shuri glanced at him from the corner of her eye. The king had ordered this particular mission, noticing from afar that his Mate appeared unhappy. Shuri had promptly told him maybe his lack of mate had caused this problem, and had been immediately sent down as punishment.

“Oh. It’s nothing to worry about. You all have been very nice already.”

“I assure you, I am quite trustworthy.” Shuri replied evenly.

“Well. I guess it’s just that I’ve always had a mission, you know? I know everyone else is happy here, and don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it more than words. But, there’s nothing really keeping me here. My mission is over. Everyone’s safe. I guess, I just need to be of use, you know.” Sam said, rambling a bit. Looking into the depths of the jungle in front of him, but not seeing, as Shuri did, the dark figure lurking in a tree above them. She glanced unamused at it, glaring at her idiot of a brother.

“That makes a great deal of sense, Mr. Wilson. And I find it highly admirable. But, there is a lot you could do here as well. Your wings make you uniquely qualified in Wakanda.”

“I appreciate that. But, I think there are a lot more people in the world who could use my skills.” Sam said, sighing. Shuri started to panic a little now, but not as badly as the king above him was panicking at the thought of his Mate leaving.

“The UN will find out, if you are going around in your wings, helping.” Shuri replied, quickly.

“I know. And it’ll be a shame to leave them behind. But, I was a therapist, you know? I helped treat PTSD. And I was a medic too, a damn good one. I can think of several countries not too far from here that could use that kind of help. I doubt even the UN would begrudge some therapy.” Sam chuckled. “They could probably use it, too.”

“Well, I beg of you not to make a decision without speaking to my brother. If nothing else, he can likely direct you towards where help is most needed.”

“Sure. I would be honored, your highness. He just somehow seems to be pretty hard to track down. Did you know, every member of the team but me has had some sort of one-on-one with the man except me? I guess he really doesn’t appreciate cat-based humor.” Sam said, chuckling on the end. Shuri glared harder at her brother.

“Well, I’ll go see if he’s busy. You don’t mind waiting here, do you?” Shuri asked, standing up. Sam looked surprised and stood as well.

“No, not at all, but there’s no rush… really.”

“It is no problem. I am almost positive he is not busy right now.” Shuri said. Not busy because he is mooning over his Mate, she thought. She headed out towards the palace, but detoured into another garden out of earshot of Sam. She turned to see her brother coming out of his landing brushing off his suit.

“Shuri-“ He started disapprovingly.

“No. He is your mate! You need to talk to him. Now. I will not broker argument or complaint. This insult to Bast has gone on long enough.” Shuri interrupted. Staring at him long and hard until he nodded. “Then go!” 

She turned to go back into the palace, but not before giving him another glare. T’Challa sighed, and turned towards where his mate was seated. He stared at his profile, smiling slightly. Bast had truly blessed him, a warrior who could heal. A fierce mind in a breathtakingly beautiful man. He got to the chairs without alerting Sam to his presence. He dropped into the seat next to him, out of words. The reverence Sam felt for his sister was not apparently present with him, as he just grinned and turned back to the trees.

“You know,” T’Challa started, turning towards Sam now. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting so long. But, I could not think of the correct words to say.” Sam gasped, looking at him with hope.

“Those. Those are the right ones. Assuming you have a snarky bit about cats somewhere.” Sam replied, grinning wildly at him.

“I do. On my back.” T’Challa said, looking worriedly at him.

“Interesting.” Sam replied, smirking.

“Where are your markings, Sam?” T’Challa asked, his voice getting lower, causing Sam to shiver slightly. In reply, Sam pulled up his pants leg, revealing the regal script on his inner calf. T’Challa smiled when he saw the placement, looking rather like the cat that ate the canary. Sam would have made a pun, but he was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate.

“I apologize for not coming to you sooner.” T’Challa said, smiling less.

“That’s OK. Why don’t we make up for lost time?” Sam replied, standing. T’Challa started to smile again, a real genuine smile. Sam thought he’d do just about anything to keep that smile on his face. T’Challa stood, and, taking Sam’s arm, they headed back to the palace together.


End file.
